


shameless

by lucigucci



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AFAB Asra (The Arcana), Emotional Sex, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, The Rowdy Raven Tavern (The Arcana)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25958416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucigucci/pseuds/lucigucci
Summary: (shameless by tyler glenn)(author's note: the first and third chapters are SFW, the second chapter is NSFW)“I want you to take me home,” Asra whispers.A shiver runs up Julian’s spine. “B-back to your shop, you mean?” he clarifies, hating himself for his incurable stammering.“Mmm.” Asra considers him, and while he thinks, he nibbles the lobe of Julian’s ear. He seems certain when he breathes, “anywhere you are most comfortable. Anywhere you will let your guard down.”“I-- I, ah, I’m not sure I--”“Anywhere you wish to have me.”
Relationships: Asra & Julian Devorak, Asra/Julian Devorak
Comments: 10
Kudos: 114





	1. Chapter 1

“But Asra!”

“No.”

“It’ll be fun, I promise!”

“No.”

“My treat…?”

Asra scoffs over the top of his book, at last deigning to lock eyes with the man across the room. “Ilya, if you think I’m one to visit a seedy South-end bar like the Raucous Raven, you have clearly never met me.”

“Rowdy Raven,” Julian grumbles.

“Oh, pardon me,” Asra replies sarcastically, adjusting one of the many pillows under his back so he can sit up straighter. Despite his dark tone, he’s smiling. “Do forgive me for mistaking the name of such a reputable establishment.”

“I’ll have you know that it’s been in Vesuvia longer than any other tavern. It’s a national treasure by now!”

Asra chuckles. He even sets down the book he was reading. “While I admire your wanting to take a break from work, I’d rather spend time with you somewhere… _cleaner_.”

From his seat in the desk, Julian leans over his work, as if gravitating by magnetic force towards the magician in the corner. “Wouldn’t you like a change of scenery? All this finery and frilly nonsense is getting me down.” He waves around the library at the stained glass windows and the organized shelves to prove his point. “Sure, it’s fine for a while, but sometimes you’ve got to switch things up.”

While Asra ponders his words, Faust slithers out from between two of the pillows, flicking her tongue up at him. “Yes, Faust, you’re quite right,” Asra muses.

Julian shoots him a suspicious glance. Just because Asra talks to his snake a lot doesn’t make it a normal occurrence, especially since she doesn’t talk back. She’s a _snake_.

“Alright, Ilya. After dinner tonight. I’ll meet you on the front steps.” Asra straightens up and starts out of the room, Faust curled around his bicep, before Julian has a chance to stammer a reply. “And don’t be late!” he adds as he exits.

When he’s sure he’s gone, Julian releases a nervous lungful of air, a grin breaking over his face. Is this a date? This might be a date. This might be a date with _Asra_ of all people!

He can’t for the life of him concentrate on any of his work.

-

Julian barely eats any of his dinner in his excitement. He even skips dessert in favor of leaving early, to get ready for his… date? 

There is a mirror in the medical dungeon used for displaying surgeries, and while everyone is preoccupied with their meals, he uses it for the first time. He fishes around in his belongings for something, _anything_ , that could help, but all he finds is a comb, an eyeliner pencil, and a compact highlighter that looks like it belonged to his sister once. In addition to his classic eyeshadow (which he refreshes) he darkens his waterlines and pats golden highlight on his cheekbones. He’s halfway through teasing his hair back when he checks the time and _shit_!

Anxiety is forgotten when he sprints back up through the palace and he’s panting by the time he reaches the steps of the palace. Of course, Asra is waiting, more radiant than the moon as he leans against a marble column. He hasn’t changed from his regular day clothes but he still looks resplendent. “And here I thought you forgot about me,” he remarks.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, I--”

“It’s alright, I just got here too,” he snickers, lifting himself off the column and approaching the doctor. He pauses a few steps away to look up into the doctor’s face. “Mm. You look very pretty tonight, Ilya.”

Julian blushes. “Ah-- thank you.”

To the doctor’s surprise, Asra takes Julian’s hand in his own. “Lead the way.”

“R-right. You don’t mind walking, do you? We could take a carriage, I suppose, I just don’t want to scare everyone.”

“Scare them?” Asra laughs.

Some of Julian’s tension melts away at the sound of it and he smirks as he starts down the steps, slower than usual so that Asra can keep up with his long strides. “People are scared of the royal family. Not everybody has slumber parties with the Countess every weekend.”

“You’re just jealous you’re too busy to paint your nails with us,” Asra teases.

“Maaaybe a little.”

“Do you want me to braid your hair? Build us a pillow fort? Play spin the bottle with you?”

 _Yes please._ “No way!” Julian chuckles. “I’m just saying, when Vesuvian people think of their government, they think of Lucio.”

Asra groans. “I see what you mean. Yes, I think it’s best if we walk.”

So they walk. The sun has left violet streaks in the sky that fade to blue as the pair continues deeper into the city. Julian is eager to show off his knowledge of Vesuvian shortcuts-- tiny twisting alleys and abandoned buildings that make their passage far faster than the main roads. Asra is impressed. “How did you find these?” he asks after they pop out of a particularly tight alleyway.

“Oh, well,” Julian replies. “One never knows when he may need to make a quick escape.”

“Escape from what?”

Julian can’t really answer that. He’s been paranoid and flighty his whole life, and considering that he wants a stable relationship for the first time, he’d rather not tell Asra that yet. 

In record time, they find themselves at the South end. The stars have appeared to wink down at the sleepy city. Asra clings tighter to Julian’s arm, and all of a sudden Julian is very happy that for once he is the one in control of the situation. When they reach the Rowdy Raven, golden light blazes from the windows, and muffled shouts ring through the streets from blocks away. “Loud,” Asra observes, sounding anything but loud himself.

“Don’t be nervous, Asra. Everyone in there is--”

“I’m not nervous,” Asra snaps, averting his eyes from Julian’s face and blushing in the low light. “I am just… out of my element.”

Julian has regained a bit of confidence now that Asra is so unsure. “Out of your element?” he teases. “Do I need to ask Barth to hang a few dreamcatchers in the window and burn some sage to cleanse the bar of demons?”

Asra mutters something like “you’re mean” and breaks from Julian’s grip to open the door first. With a chuckle, Julian follows him inside.

The bartender, Barth, calls to Julian from behind the counter. “Been a long time!” he booms. “Where’ve you been, y’rapscallion?”

While Asra ducks into a booth to avoid attention, Julian yells back, all while trying to grin at all the other patrons he recognizes. “Working against the plague, of course!” He lowers his head to Asra’s to whisper to him. “What do you want to drink?”

“Do they… have tea?”

Julian smirks. “No, they don’t have tea.”

“Uh. S-something… er…” Asra glances around, as though looking for a clue to help, but at last answers, “you choose, Ilya.”

“Hmm.” Julian pops back up to shout at Barth. “One salty bitter and one lovers kiss.”

As he slides into the bench across, Asra raises his eyebrows. “A lovers kiss?” he says.

“Rose wine, sugar, and bindweed syrup,” Julian supplies.

Asra snorts. “An aphrodisiac? Subtle, doctor, very subtle.”

“You _did_ tell me to choose, my dear magician.”

“Yes, my first mistake.” Asra rests his chin in his hand and keeps his eyes fixed on Julian’s face. “But perhaps an aphrodisiac will loosen me up. We have been working so hard, we deserve to treat ourselves. Don’t you think?”

Julian felt the blood rush to his cheeks. “Uh. Y-yes, I… yes.”

“I’m glad you said that.” Asra leans forward over the table, and for a single wonderful moment, Julian thinks he might kiss him, but instead, Asra tilts his head this way and that to examine Julian’s makeup. “My, my, you really are glowing. Where did you get your highlighter?”

After letting a tense breath out, Julian mutters, “it’s Pasha’s.”

“I must ask her about it the next time I have dinner with her.”

“ _You have dinner with her_?” Julian exclaims.

Asra has no right to look so simultaneously smug and innocent as he replies, “every friday, at her cottage. You didn’t know?”

Julian is about to retort when Barth comes to their table with two glasses in his hands. The bartender turns to Asra to give him a conspiratorial wink and lowers his voice. “Take care of him, doll,” he says. “He acts tough but he’s delicate as a daisy.”

Instead of the expected usual brush-off, Asra’s lips curl up. “I’ll do my best,” he answers.

Barth saunters away and Asra takes a sip of his drink before Julian has time to stammer out an incoherent ‘what does that even mean?!’ “Ahh… sweet. Would you like to try some, Ilya?”

“Y-yes please.” Julian accepts the offered drink, which is a deep magenta, and drinks. True to Asra’s word it is very sweet. At the same time, there’s something… what is that taste? It’s tingly, like alcohol, but it doesn’t burn. When he notices Asra watching him, he adds, “uh, good. It’s good.”

“To the health of Vesuvia,” Asra announces, raising the lovers kiss high in his hand, and Julian follows suit with his mug of beer. “And to you too, of course.”

Julian wasn’t expecting that last bit. “To you too,” he echoes, before they touch glasses and down their respective drinks. After the cloying sweetness of the lovers kiss, Julian nearly chokes on his salty bitter, disgusting as it is. While he struggles, Asra sets his glass down.

“It was kind of you to invite me here, Ilya,” he remarks. “I feel quite special. After all, it seems that this place is very important to you, and I am fortunate to be here with you.”

Julian almost spits out his drink. When was the last time Asra paid him a compliment that wasn’t laced in sarcasm? Had Asra _ever_ paid him a compliment? He’s no longer sure of anything anymore, so all he says is, “you’re, uh, w-welcome.”

Asra takes another long swig, sets it down, and meets Julian’s gaze. He’s smiling. _Actually_ smiling. There is no mask, no pity, no sarcasm-- he is content to be here at this moment.

Or is that just a trick of the light?

He curls a strand of white hair around a single lazy finger. “But I confess, I’m surprised you were so adamant about coming here. You’re usually the one who wants to work from sunrise to moonrise.”

“Mm… I suppose I am…” Julian avoids Asra’s curious eyes in favor of admiring the wooden table. “To tell you the truth, I was… er…”

“You can tell me.”

Julian takes a deep breath before replying, “I was worried about you.”

All at once, Asra’s expression darkens, and Julian regrets his words. “If you worry about anyone, worry about yourself,” he hisses.

“Asra, I was just--”

“You have no business poking your oversized nose into my affairs. Between the two of us, you are the one who is as good as dead. How dare you put my needs above yours? Don’t you realize this, Ilya?”

It takes a few incredulous moments for Julian to register this. He blinks a few times and his jaw falls open. “You-- _that’s_ what you’re angry about?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m angry about!” Asra snarls. “Why don’t you worry about yourself for once instead of playing the self-sacrificing hero? Are you really so-- so-- urgh!” He seizes his drink and drains the entire glass while Julian looks on. Only once the glass is empty does Asra’s face relax, but his brows are still furrowed in anxiety when he meets Julian’s gaze again. “I’m sorry, that… came out wrong. Can I start over?”

“Um. A-alright.”

“I meant… I only meant that you don’t have to watch over me. I worry about you too.” To Julian’s surprise, a gentle hand creeps over the table and rests a few cautious fingers over his own. “To tell you the truth,” Asra continues softly, “I’m very scared for you. After the death of my apprentice, I just can’t lose anyone else.”

Asra had only mentioned his apprentice a few times before. They had worked under Julian’s supervision, experimenting on victims of the plague, and he hadn’t been that close to them until they didn’t show up to work one day. He was the first person Asra came to when they disappeared. He didn’t know that such a beautiful person could cry so much. And yes, it wasn’t as though Julian himself had caused their death, but even so…

Julian moves slow and careful to keep from startling Asra, slipping his fingers up between Asra’s and gripping. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“It’s my fault that--”

“No,” Asra interrupts sharply. “Whatever you were about to say, I don’t want to hear it.”

Sighing, Julian tries to lower his eyes to the table again, but his chin is caught and forced back up. The breath catches in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he echoes.

“I am too.” Asra leans over the table and brushes his lips against Julian’s cheek. The air in Julian’s lungs stutters like a candle flame in a breeze. His heart continues to pound, faster and faster, because Asra lingers beside him, breath warm on his cheek, senses heady with jasmine perfume. Julian allows his eyes to fall closed so he can concentrate wholly on this newfound closeness. “My dear colleague,” Asra purrs, “how many times must I remind you that an ill doctor cannot put his patients before his own disease?”

“Ahh… at least once more, as always, my loveliest magician.”

He feels Asra’s lips bless his cheek once, then twice, and then trail to the shell of his ear. “I want you to take me home,” Asra whispers.

A shiver runs up Julian’s spine. “B-back to your shop, you mean?” he clarifies, hating himself for his incurable stammering.

“Mmm.” Asra considers him, and while he thinks, he nibbles the lobe of Julian’s ear. He seems certain when he breathes, “anywhere you are most comfortable. Anywhere you will let your guard down.”

“I-- I, ah, I’m not sure I--”

“Anywhere you wish to have me.”

There’s another shudder, another stutter of air. When Asra releases his chin, his head drops to the table, rendered boneless even as he stares up at the amused Asra. “Lovers k-kiss,” he slurs. “P-potent stuff. I should tip Barth extra.”

“Don’t try to be slimy, Ilya, it doesn’t become you.”

Julian gulps. “O-okay.”

Asra brings both his hands to comb through Julian’s hair, ignoring the pleased groan his ministrations make. “We could go back to my shop,” he offers. “Or we could go to your apartment. We could even go back to the castle and find an isolated gazebo in the royal gardens.”

“Anything you want. Name it, I’ll do it, Asra, I promise.”

“I asked you what _you_ wanted.”

“I… I want to m-make you happy.”

This was the wrong answer. Asra freezes, narrowing his eyes. “I would be happy if you told me what I can do to help you,” he says.

“Then-- well, I suppose we could, er, go b-back to your shop? I think I feel more at home there than I do at my own flat.”

Asra grins and brushes his hair away from his face before kissing his forehead. “I would be happier still,” he adds, “if you stayed the night with me.”

Julian raises his head, just enough so he can nuzzle his face into one of Asra’s sweet-smelling palms. “As long as you need me to… Asra, Gods, Asra, anything I can give you, everything I can give you...”

“Let’s pay and leave. I seem to recall you offering to pay for me…?”

Julian seems to be very trapped at the moment, so Asra, giggling, removes his hands so Julian can recollect himself, blinking like a nocturnal creature in sunlight. “Money,” Julian slurs.

“Yes, Ilya, money. Would you be a darling and pay for the drinks so we can go home?”

It takes him a few seconds. At last, he nods his head through his daze and stumbles to the bar. He tells Barth… something… he isn’t entirely sure what, but Barth smiles and nods, so Julian digs in his pockets and throws a few coins on the counter. Why is he feeling so drunk? He’s only had one salty bitter, and it usually takes at least five of those to lower his inhibitions to this pitiful point. A hand on his arm pulls him away from the bar and he’s grateful to it for leading the way. (His sense of direction is practically nonexistent at this point and he knows it.)

“Asra,” he remarks, as they step out into the cool night air, Asra half-supporting him as they walk. “Did you… did you spike the drink?”

“Did I what?”

“Lovers kiss. Did you spike it?”

Asra raises his eyebrows and smirks. “Ilya, we drank from the same glass. I give you my word that I didn’t add anything to that drink.” But then he grows serious, and goes on to say, “are you feeling well? Do you feel as though you have been drugged?”

“I only had… one bitter… but I feel so…” He has to search for the word. A blissful smile stretches across his face, and he sways right into Asra to lean on him. “I think it’s you.”

“Me?”

“Mmhmm. I get like this sometimes, you know. When I think too much about you. But now that you’re here, I don’t really know what to do with myself. It might be… magical influence,” he ponders.

Asra looks away. Julian can just make out, in the moonlight, a rosy blush spreading across Asra’s cheeks. “Perhaps it is,” he replies softly. “Just like you said, Ilya. Magical influence. But… let’s sober you up, just in case. I would hate for you to be in the wrong state of mind tonight.”

Julian wraps an arm around Asra’s shoulders. Now might not be the best time to tell him that he doesn’t have to lean on him to walk, so he stays quiet.

The pair trundles back through the streets of Vesuvia, which are far quieter now that the moon is high in the sky. A few of the windows they pass are lit with golden light that marries with the silver starlight on the cobblestones. Distant music floats on the breeze, flavored with strings and woodwinds, coming from everywhere at once.

“Here,” Asra tells him, opening the door to the shop.

Julian glances around his surroundings. The shop in front of him is cast in shadows, but warm light spills from the apartment he knows is just beyond the staircase by the back room. “Ah. Sorry, I think I dozed off a bit.”

“Dozed off? Ilya, we were walking.” Asra tugs him inside and closes the door behind him. In a louder voice, he calls, “Faust, we’re back! I brought you a friend!”

Julian heaves a dramatic sigh. “She’s going to squeeze the life out of me one of these days, Asra, and I’m afraid it will be all your fault for enabling her.”

“Then let’s not delay the inevitable,” Asra teases back. He pulls Julian along up the staircase to his living space, which is lit up by the iron stove in the corner. As soon as they clear the top of the stairs a pale blur speeds across the floor and winds up Julian’s leg. He yelps and tries to shake it off, but Faust is already coiled around his neck, flicking her tongue against his cheek. 

“N-nice snake?” Julian says. “Pretty snake? Please don’t hurt me?”

“I swear, you’re more dramatic than Lucio.”

“Didn’t I tell you? I taught him everything he-- _grk_!” Julian is cut off by Faust squeezing around his throat. 

Asra is less than concerned with this predicament and he busies himself around the kitchen. “What would you like? Tea? Coffee? Water?” he asks. 

Julian pulls Faust away just enough to gasp for air and responds, “I thought-- you didn’t-- like coffee!”

“I. Erm. Don’t. I don’t like coffee,” Asra mumbles.

“Then why did you--”

“You like coffee, don’t you? I’ll just make you that.”

Faust takes pity on Julian and drops to the floor, slithering away and leaving him to lean against the banister to catch his breath. Now that he has more oxygen, he can wonder why all of a sudden Asra keeps coffee in his home, when Julian knows for damn sure that Asra despises it.

It isn’t for him… is it?

Was Asra hoping that Julian would drop by his apartment?

A shot of courage (or maybe stupidity) jolts through Julian’s body. He saunters up behind Asra, who is occupied spooning coffee grounds into a filter, and places both lanky arms on either side of the counter. “It smells good,” he remarks.

He can almost feel Asra’s hot embarrassment emanating from him. “I’m not very experienced with coffee,” he mutters. “I’m afraid that all I know is tea. So, er… tell me if I’m doing it wrong. I want it to be good.”

“I’m sure it’ll be perfect, Asra. Don’t worry about a thing.” Since nothing has gone south yet, Julian tests his luck by wrapping an arm around Asra’s waist, savoring the little “oh!” of surprise that escapes from the trapped magician. “Is there anything else I can do to make you happy?” he inquires gently.

Asra’s quiver runs through both of them. “Ilya, about the coffee,” he continues.

“Asra--”

“I h-haven’t made it in a long time… not for anybody else… and I don’t know what you take in it, milk or sugar or honey, and I don’t know if the water will be hot enough, and--”

Julian pulls Asra’s face around to kiss the tip of his nose. To his discomfort, there are tears sparkling in both lavender eyes. “ _Lyubimiy_ , I’ll leave if you want me to,” Julian soothes.

“No-- no, stay!” Asra turns around so he can bury himself in Julian’s chest, fists curling around the fabric of Julian’s coat. “I don’t-- I can’t be alone tonight, Ilya, please! Please stay!”

“Then I’ll stay,” Julian cooes. He weaves his fingers into Asra’s fluffy hair to hold him in place. After a few sniffles, Asra seems to calm down in the sanctuary of Julian’s embrace. His hands unclench and his shoulders cease their trembling.

There isn’t much space else to go. Somehow Asra manages to separate himself from Julian’s arms, so he can stare up at him with heavy-lidded eyes that make Julian feel drunk all over again. “I want you to sleep with me tonight,” he says.

“O-oh.”

“I want to give you head, and then I want to ride you. I want to watch your face while I do it.”

How is it physically possible that Julian feels so enclosed, even though he’s the one pinning Asra to the counter? He swallows a nervous lump in his throat so he can reply with as much suaveness as he can muster, “yes please.”

“I also want you to make me breakfast in the morning and stay with me to eat it.”

“That’s… uh, I can do that.”

Asra smiles. “Good. Did you want me to make you coffee first?”

“Oh, to hell with the fucking coffee,” Julian groans, enveloping Asra in an all-consuming kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s hard to think. It’s hard to breathe. Julian is keenly aware of every place on his body that Asra touches; Asra’s hand on his chest, another cradling the back of his neck, Asra’s mouth on his own, sharing the same breaths and the same exhilaration. Julian can taste the sweet residue of the lovers kiss. He chases the feeling, sucks at Asra’s tongue, drinks Asra’s moans as though he were lost in the desert for days on end. The hand on his chest fidgets and clings to his shirt. Asra is the first to pull away in order to catch his breath while Julian buries his face in the magician’s snowy hair. “I’ll take care of you tonight,” Julian whispers. “Just trust me.”

He can hear the smirk in Asra’s voice. “ _You_ , take care of _me_? Is that so?”

“I don’t want you to be scared. I can take the lead.”

Asra _actually snorts_ with amusement, and now Julian has to withdraw so he can look Asra in the eye. “I’m serious!” Julian presses. “I can do it!”

“By Havalana, my love, I am not a blushing virgin to be taken kindly,” Asra teases. (Julian blushes at the petname and hopes that Asra won’t take _him_ kindly either.) “You don’t have to do this. I am very much used to, ah--” he seizes Julian’s collar to yank him down to eye level-- “taking the reins, if you will.”

“W-well, that, uh, that may be true, I just-- I only, that is to say--”

Asra grins and kisses Julian’s bright red cheek. “Like it rough, do you?”

“I-- it’s not like--” Julian fumbles with his words while Asra waits patiently, still with his hand at Julian’s collar. “It’s just-- hah, really, Asra, I don’t know where you get these ideas--”

“ _Ilya_.”

“Imayhaveafewsmallkinks,” he finishes all in one flustered word.

“Yes, I assumed so,” Asra chuckles. He releases Julian and steps back a few paces, next to the bed. “Alright. You get your wish.”

“My… wish?”

Asra spreads his arms. “You’re taking the lead now. I await your command.”

Julian’s mouth forms a perfect O. Again, he has to try a few times to select the proper words, which turn out to be, “I… would you… um… your shirt? Please?”

“Do what with my shirt?”

Julian has to pantomime unbuttoning his own shirt for a few seconds while he searches for the word. “Please, um-- disrobe!”

“Disrobe?” Asra snickers. “You don’t have to remind me that you’re a doctor, you know. We work together.”

Said doctor has started gesticulating wildly in the air as his face reddens more and more by the second. “Shirt-- and pants, too, I suppose-- oh, but shoes first, yes! D-do you want me to take off your shoes for you? I can do it, if you want!”

“You’re terrible at this.”

Julian lets out an irritated growl. “Asra, for the love of all things holy, take off your clothes.”

Asra looks downright delighted at this newfound aggressiveness. He doesn’t hesitate sitting down on the side of the bed to unlace his shoes, humming as he does so. “How assertive of you, my dear,” he sings.

“Don’t act cute, I’m trying to sound mean.”

“Oh? Then what do you _want_ me to do?”

Julian opens his mouth to reply, but Asra catches his eyes with a satisfied grin, and he groans. “This is horrendously difficult! How do people do this?”

“Would you like to switch?”

There is almost nothing Julian would like more than for Asra to shove him to the floor and _ruin_ him, but he told himself he would take charge tonight. Asra seemed so scared a few minutes ago at the prospect, he owes this to Asra, owes it to Asra to give him a wonderful night. So he pushes on. He shakes his head and watches Asra shedding his clothes. He may not have experience in this area, but he knows people who do.

Julian needs to approach this logically.

First, he thinks of Valdemar, but he decides he would rather not picture them in this situation at all, so he moves on. Next up is Lucio. Yes, Lucio might be a good example for once! So what would he do in this situation…?

“Done,” Asra announces.

Oh, but now he can’t tear his eyes from examining every inch of Asra’s body, and his mouth waters at the mere thought of kissing his skin, worshipping him--

“Ilya? Would you like me to lay down on the bed?”

Julian puffs up like a bird with ruffled feathers. “I will be giving the orders!” he barks, hoping he sounds like Lucio, and meets Asra’s gaze. They stare at each other for a few seconds. At last, defeated, Julian adds quietly, “yes, please lay down.”

“If you say so.” Asra scoots backward and relaxes back on the mattress. He looks so at home, it should be criminal.

“Right. Good. Yes.”

“Will you be joining me anytime soon? I’m afraid I may fall asleep.”

“Er-- do you want coffee?”

Asra squints. “Ilya, I want your _cock_ in my _mouth_ , what part of this concept do you not understand?”

Julian is a broken man. He falls across the mattress with a dramatic wail, gangly limbs thrashing every which way. “Gods, Asra! Why is this so hard? Why are you making this so hard?”

“You’re hard already? Eager thing.”

Julian has to turn onto his stomach and muffle his groan into the blanket so the neighbors won’t think he’s being murdered. A set of gentle fingers stroke along his spinal cord, and, with a languid smile, Julian arches up into the sensation. “Mm-- Asra--”

“If your heart is set on it, I’ll help you,” Asra soothes. “I promise that even if I have the worst sex of my life tonight, I will not be angry, and I will still adore you. Do you understand?”

“Yessasraaa…”

Asra stops stroking (Julian whines) and he backs away to resume his position on the bed, this time smiling invitingly, even spreading his legs a little to entice him. “Then use me, Ilya. Take what you desire.”

“Oh Gods,” Julian rasps. “I-- I can’t, I don’t deserve you--”

“You do, you deserve everything you want and more! Now come, I won’t bite!”

Julian is shaking like a leaf on a windy day. Almost unbelieving, waiting a few seconds in case Asra decided to kick him away, he cradles Asra’s foot in both his hands and plants a tender kiss on his ankle. He waits again, and when Asra doesn’t stop him, he shifts up to sample his shin, his knee, his thigh, growing more and more fevered with each kiss. From here he can smell an alluring cocktail of perfume and arousal that mingle with the salty taste of Asra’s skin. His breathing has grown labored. “If you want me to stop,” he whispers, flicking his gaze up to Asra’s eyes, “for any reason, please--”

“Yes, I’ll tell you,” Asra cuts in.

“Or to slow down, _lyubimiy_ , or if you need water, or even if you--”

“Ilya, if you don’t take your pants off in the next ten seconds, I’m kicking you out of my apartment.”

Julian jolts up to obey, having his own private wrestling match between his pants and his shaky fingers. He doesn’t hear Asra counting down, which he is both troubling and comforting, and he hopes to whatever God is watching that it isn’t taking him too long. Asra’s eyes are practically glued to him-- so much so that he’s wondering if he’s performing an accidental striptease. 

_Maybe... this could work._

Julian pauses, now that his pants are halfway down his thighs, and tries on a smirk he hopes is sexy. “Do you like what you see?” he asks.

“Mm… I suppose I do.” Asra even licks his lips. Does Julian look delicious? He hopes he does.

This time, Julian takes his time. He loves watching Asra watching him. It makes him feel far more powerful than normal. When at last his pants are off, he climbs back onto bed beside Asra. “You said you wanted to blow me first?” he says.

Asra nods. His eyes are already heavy with lust.

“And you’ll stop me if I--”

Asra seizes Julian around the middle and tugs him unceremoniously forward. Julian’s hands make contact with the headboard to steady himself while Asra almost swallows him whole. _Oh, Gods!_ Nothing else matters except warm and wet and _don’t stop don’t stop_! Julian thinks he might be moaning like a performative whore-for-hire, even when he promised himself he wouldn’t, though he can’t quite be sure in this dizzy state. His neck cranes up to the heavens. Both his eyes flutter closed. He shouldn’t be this close, but Gods, Asra is wonderful, and his tongue is so clever, and what has Julian done to deserve this, he hasn’t been this happy in years and he needs to run before he ruins everything like he always does--

Asra pulls off, leaving Julian’s length wet and exposed and waiting. “Ilya,” he whispers, and he weaves his hands into Julian’s hair to cherish. “Ilya, where have you gone? I want you here, dear heart, here with me!”

“Ngh--” Julian forces his eyes open, and is half-shocked to meet Asra’s eyes a breath away. “I-- it was perfect, it was!”

“Crying during sex usually isn’t a good sign.”

“Crying--? I wasn’t--” Julian touches his own cheek. Sure enough, with a jolt, he feels warm dampness.

Asra kisses the place Julian’s fingers just brushed over. “We can stop if you wish it.”

“No! No, I don’t want to stop! I-- I was scared, Asra, I was so happy!” Julian takes both Asra’s hands in his own to plant doting kisses along his knuckles. (He is still very aroused and he very much wants Asra to keep sucking his dick but this seems a little more important at the moment.) “I didn’t-- didn’t want to ruin it, ruin you, make you hate me-- Gods, and now you’re worried about me, and it’s all my fault--”

“Shh, shh. It’s alright. Ilya, listen to me.” Asra withdraws his hands so he can cup Julian’s face and turn him back. “We can stop now if you really want to. But if we keep going, I want you to look at me the whole time. There will be no leaving. I will make you see how I care for you. Do you understand?”

Julian forces a lump down his throat. He feels trapped, but in the very best way, in those violet eyes. “I understand. I… want you. Want to keep going.”

“Do you promise you want this? Not for my sake, but for yours?”

“I promise, Asra.”

Asra smiles, and Julian could cry again from happiness. “Sit back,” Asra murmurs into Julian’s collarbone. “It’s my turn to spoil you.” On cue, Julian obeys, and sits back on the bed for Asra to straddle his hips. Asra’s choker glints in the candlelight almost as much as his eyes. His legs are spread, just so. Julian’s gaze trails hungrily down to the patch of ivory curls between his thighs. “At me,” Asra orders, and Julian hastens to correct himself, and finds himself safe once more in Asra’s stare. “That’s it. That’s my good boy. Ilya, you’ll stay, won’t you, stay forever?”

“Stay,” Julian slurs.

Asra takes his cock in his hand, ignoring Julian’s hopeful whimper. “Your eyes are lovely. Soft and grey as the sky just before a summer storm.” And then he lowers himself, and the rest of the world falls away. Stars pop in front of Julian’s vision. His hands jump up to Asra’s cocoa butter hips, to anchor both of them. “Ah-- you’re so beautiful, Ilya, so beautiful! You must know how beautiful you are!” Asra exclaims, and pushes down farther along his length.

Julian shakes his head. The breathless grin on his face must look ridiculous. “I didn’t know, to tell the truth, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.” 

“Beautiful _ahh_ \-- every part of you-- every _ohmygods_ \--” Asra reaches up, too, to cling to Julian around the shoulders, and he buries his face in Julian’s chest while he buries Julian’s cock up to the hilt inside of him. He clenches around Julian with a throaty moan. “You are-- oh, Lucio is lucky, so lucky, what I wouldn’t give to have you dote on me day and night in my own bed--”

“I would spoil you rotten,” Julian murmurs into the crown of Asra’s head. “Give you everything you want. Stay by your side so you would never have to lift a finger.”

Asra raises his head from Julian’s chest to lock their eyes once more. With a mischievous twinkle, he rises, slowly, _slowly_ , so slowly Julian pouts, then without warning slams back down with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs. Julian keens, it’s all so good so good and he’s-- “Eyes on me,” Asra reminds him, “right here, dearest.” 

He snaps his eyes open to attention. “Ah! I-I’m sorry!”

“Too much?”

“Anything you want, anything! It’s-- you’re perfect!”

Again, Asra lifts himself up Julian’s shaft, so steady and controlled he might be underwater. Julian’s only warning is Asra’s fingernails digging into his skin when he returns to his lap. A thrill of pleasure floods through his veins again. “That’s it, you’re doing so well,” Asra croons. The cycle repeats; the anticipation, the light in both orchid eyes, the final injection of satisfaction, the warmth of Asra’s skin on his own, and Julian cries out to the night. Again, and again, and again, and Asra praises him every time, again and again. He treasures each of Asra’s high moans, growing louder each time.

Again and again and _oh_ \--

Julian’s eyes widen. His blotchy face reddens even more. “Asra, I-- I’m going to-- I need to--”

“You can.”

“Inside? Oh, Asra, I--!”

Out, out, out, _in_ , and Julilan wails as he finds his release. He shudders and grips Asra for dear life. “Good boy,” Asra whispers. “You’re beautiful, my love.”

“Darlingdarlingdarling-- Gods, you’re wonderful--!” Julian dives forward to take Asra’s lips in his own. Asra sighs into his mouth. “Asra, please, I-- I want to make you happy! Let me make you happy!” Julian strokes up Asra’s hips, his waist, marveling in his heat and velvet softness. A mewl of satisfaction flies from his lips even as his cock softens within Asra’s body.

“You do, you will!” Asra exclaims. 

Julian offers Asra an eskimo kiss before muttering, “use me, _lyubimiy_.”

The wordless purr that Asra gives him in return is utterly sinful. He tightens his grip around Julian’s neck and snaps his hips in, out, in, out, unrelenting, untiring. Asra’s gaze is unfocused and dreamy. His shallow breaths captivate Julian’s attention despite the perfect pain blooming once more in his pelvis. In. Out. In. Out. In in _in in in_. Asra gasps and squeezes and Julian is babbling by now, half in his mother tongue and half vulgar veneration. Arousal dribbles down to mess the blankets beneath. Words, at last, fade away from Julian’s mouth. Comfortable silence settles over the lovers for a few breathless moments. 

Candlelight flickers. Hearts beat in time. Everything, for now, is perfect.

“Thank you,” Asra says quietly.

“No, thank you, thank you!” Julian showers Asra’s face in delicate kisses while Asra giggles.

“Ilya, I should get off.”

“Stayyy,” Julian complains between kisses. “We can make it work. We’ll be like... conjoined twins!”

“Eww, no.” Asra pushes him away playfully and eases off with an awkward _squelch_.

Now that they are freed of each other, the doctor flops face-first into the bed, and Asra follows suit without another word. Somehow, their hands find each other, and fingers entwine. Julian’s eyes close once more.

“Ilya, I’m going to make tea. Do you still want that coffee?”

“Mmmno. I think I’ll just lie here. I’m too happy to stay awake.”

Asra’s fingers slip away in favor of combing through Julian’s mussed hair. “Then go to sleep, my dearest heart. I’ll keep you safe tonight.”

Julian believes him. It takes a mere few minutes before he drifts away into a deep sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Julian was having a wonderful dream, for a change. He had fallen asleep tangled up in Asra’s arms. This wasn’t an unordinary dream, of course, he had dreamt similar scenarios dozens of times before, but this one was particularly wonderful. Half-asleep, he smiles, remembering how Asra smelled of salty ambrosial lust and patchouli perfume, and how Asra didn’t reprimand him for sobbing in bed, and how Asra told him he was beautiful beautiful beautiful.

He scrunches his eyes closed and buries his face in his pillow, which feels softer than normal. Why can’t he go back to sleep? Why can’t he forget work, forget Valdemar’s knowing smirk, and return to his dreamy magician’s sanctuary?

“You promised,” someone groans beside him.

He all but leaps off the mattress in surprise. “Asra?” he yelps.

“Who else?” Asra grumbles beside him. His downy hair is tossed and tangled all over his face from a good night’s sleep. “Go on. You promised, Ilya. Go wake up the salamander and start breakfast.”

“Start-- the--  _ what _ ?” Julian’s round eyes take in Asra’s prone form, half-exposed to the cool morning air, half-cocooned in sheets. He hesitates, then reaches out and pokes Asra’s chest. Solid and warm. Real. 

Asra rolls over on his stomach, grunting. “Stoooop. Don’ poke. ‘Mticklish.”

“Sorry, it’s just-- this isn’t a dream.”

“If it was a dream, I wouldn’t be so hungry. Didn’t I tell you, Ilya?” Asra fumbles around for Julian’s thigh, which he gives a fond squeeze. “My favorite sexual fantasy is big strong men making me breakfast. I’ll orgasm at least three times before I’m done with my tea... oh, and don’t even get me started on the main course.” He yawns into the pillow. “Go. Fetch.”

Julian grins, leans down to brush the hair from Asra’s forehead to kiss his temple, and whispers, “anything for you.”

When he straightens back up again, something warm slithers up his leg to wrap around his shoulders. He strokes along Faust’s back with a single slow knuckle. “Good morning, little lady,” he adds. He imagines a little voice in the back of his head telling him  _ good morning! _ back. But, of course, she is still a snake, and she still cannot actually talk. He climbs off the bed slowly so as to not disturb Asra. 

Julian is not a morning person. He never has been. And yet, here, in the coldness of the morning, in the quaintness of an apartment that feels like home, he is ecstatic to rise, to take pleasure in the simple luxuries of the early hours. He uses the bathroom and washes his face before returning to the kitchen to start breakfast. The salamander, who lives in the stove, requires a gentle prod to heat up the oven. Julian wonders if the salamander and Faust are friends or not. He rummages around in the cupboards for anything that might be tea (he’ll just drink the coffee they left out last night). Part of him wants to ask Asra for help, to ask where things are and what he would prefer, but Asra looks so peaceful between the sheets, it would be a crime to wake him again.

He doesn’t intend for it to happen, but he watches Asra while he prepares the kettle for tea. Asra is gorgeous, angelic, and now there is something so sweet knowing that Asra  _ trusts him _ to make himself at home. His white eyelashes flutter in his sleep, fingertips twitch, lips curl. Perhaps Julian could wake him up just for a moment… just for a kiss, a touch…

The kettle whistles. Asra’s eyes open and focus on Julian, who scuttles to take it off the heat and continue his tea-making task. “Is everything alright?” Asra yawns.

“Sorry, I… I’m sorry. Got distracted.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Julian can see Asra’s feline smirk. “Yes, of course, my love. Do forgive me.”

Julian almost spills boiling water over the side of the mug. Blushing, he carries the fresh mug to Asra, who sits up on the mattress to accept it. “Didn’t mean that,” the doctor mumbles. “You’re just too pretty for your own good. I can’t keep my eyes off you.”

“Is that so?” Asra crooks his finger to beckon Julian closer, so he can give his new butler a lingering kiss. He beams as bright as the sun. “Ah, poor Ilya. I treat you so terribly.”

“Prahaha! Indeed, life is hard for a poor servant boy like me, fated to serve my master’s every whim without reprieve!” Julian swings his body low in a dramatic bow to draw a laugh from Asra.

“And shouldn’t my poor servant boy be finishing my breakfast by now?”

Julian’s face falls far too much to be genuine. “Ooh, yes, of course!” Another sweeping bow before he slumps back to the stove. He opens the cabinets once more to search for food. “Hmm… you don’t have much, do you? When was the last time you went shopping?”

Asra wilts a little. “I… I haven’t been very, er, on top of things… here at the store. I’m afraid I’ve been overstaying Nadi’s hospitality for the past few weeks.”

“Is there anything up here that can work for breakfast?”

“I have some old biscuits in the back, top shelf… but they might have been there since before I arrived at the shop a few years ago, so…”

“You’re worse than me,” Julian teases. “Shall I go and pick up some groceries from the market? I never like to break a promise, and you could certainly stand to keep some food in here besides a box of fossilized biscuits.”

“Probably a good idea… I feel bad using you as an errand boy, though…”

Julian fixes a few of Asra’s mussed stray curls away from his forehead. “Didn't I tell you? I live to serve you.”

Asra sighs in contentment, eyes closing once more, flopping back against the pillow. “‘Kay. I’ll pay you back when you return. Just… get some stuff you like.”

“No requests?”

“No requests. If you like it, I’ll probably like it too.”

Again, that sweet feeling of contentment surges through Julian’s lanky limbs. “Go back to sleep for a while. I’ll make you breakfast in bed.” He adjusts the blankets to cover Asra’s shoulder before beginning the search for his pants and shoes.


End file.
